Great minds drink alike
Saturday evening was a bust. Sunday was one of the worst hangovers I've had in a long long time. I'm done again - this time there is no "just one". It's not worth it when it morphs into 10, like it did, and it always does. I'd like to know how many days have been wasted puking and in pain, but I'd be afraid of the answer. I always did get bad hangovers, even from the start.
Brought up in a drinking culture and experiencing a bit of culture shock when I moved to Minnesota made me seek out people who drank like me. My brother T had also moved to MN, so I had him for sure. He introduced me to some of the best bars in town.
T was and still is an alcoholic, no question. It has fucked up his health and his life in so many sad ways - and today he has pretty much isolated himself from the rest of us. That's a trait my family has - we love isolation. But anyway, T was the worst of us as far as drinking and drug use was concerned.
I admired him so much - he was so much fun! And so were his friends! Only 4 years older than me, I followed him to bars and parties whenever I could. T gave me my first joint, my first line, my first (and last) flaming shot. I thought he was cool, and I was cool by association.
He's been playing Russian Roulette with booze from very early on - he nearly killed himself and my cousins in a drunken car crash, sideswiped a bridge in another drunken driving accident, caught on fire from spilling a flaming shot down his chin (which is why I never ever did another flaming shot in my life). He's been in bar brawls and domestics and the whole shebang of what drunks can get themselves into. Nowadays it's dangerously high blood pressure, diabetes and obesity that are out to get him. But I believe he still drinks.
So I had T, and the guy I moved to MN with, J, the son of an alcoholic, a mean drunk, so that when J got drunk the family mean streak could come out in him too. We only had one or two drunken fights after too many TarMoonies (martinis} and that was still when we were in Wisconsin. His father was constantly drunk, and his fathers girlfriend was constantly drunk and those people I considered real alcoholics. J and I were just party people, and T was a party person in the extreme. I think I thought you had to be older to be considered an alcoholic.
In MN, J and I had an efficiency apartment in the building next to my brothers. We were dirt poor, just starting out, getting jobs, making ends meet, but always money for a bottle and beer. At my job as a clerical worker with a national book and music company, I picked out friends that could be part of my party circle.
J and I split up when I met the man who would become my first husband. I worked with R and we really hit it off personality-wise. We had so much in common, and you guessed it, including love of drink. In fact, R was sent to MN by his parents in Iowa for treatment. It didn't work. That's a journal entry or 10 for the future, delving into the saddest, sickest 4 years of my young adulthood.
My circle of drunk buddies was expanding nicely, and Mpls was starting to feel more and more like home.
Brought up in a drinking culture and experiencing a bit of culture shock when I moved to Minnesota made me seek out people who drank like me. My brother T had also moved to MN, so I had him for sure. He introduced me to some of the best bars in town.
T was and still is an alcoholic, no question. It has fucked up his health and his life in so many sad ways - and today he has pretty much isolated himself from the rest of us. That's a trait my family has - we love isolation. But anyway, T was the worst of us as far as drinking and drug use was concerned.
I admired him so much - he was so much fun! And so were his friends! Only 4 years older than me, I followed him to bars and parties whenever I could. T gave me my first joint, my first line, my first (and last) flaming shot. I thought he was cool, and I was cool by association.
He's been playing Russian Roulette with booze from very early on - he nearly killed himself and my cousins in a drunken car crash, sideswiped a bridge in another drunken driving accident, caught on fire from spilling a flaming shot down his chin (which is why I never ever did another flaming shot in my life). He's been in bar brawls and domestics and the whole shebang of what drunks can get themselves into. Nowadays it's dangerously high blood pressure, diabetes and obesity that are out to get him. But I believe he still drinks.
So I had T, and the guy I moved to MN with, J, the son of an alcoholic, a mean drunk, so that when J got drunk the family mean streak could come out in him too. We only had one or two drunken fights after too many TarMoonies (martinis} and that was still when we were in Wisconsin. His father was constantly drunk, and his fathers girlfriend was constantly drunk and those people I considered real alcoholics. J and I were just party people, and T was a party person in the extreme. I think I thought you had to be older to be considered an alcoholic.
In MN, J and I had an efficiency apartment in the building next to my brothers. We were dirt poor, just starting out, getting jobs, making ends meet, but always money for a bottle and beer. At my job as a clerical worker with a national book and music company, I picked out friends that could be part of my party circle.
J and I split up when I met the man who would become my first husband. I worked with R and we really hit it off personality-wise. We had so much in common, and you guessed it, including love of drink. In fact, R was sent to MN by his parents in Iowa for treatment. It didn't work. That's a journal entry or 10 for the future, delving into the saddest, sickest 4 years of my young adulthood.
My circle of drunk buddies was expanding nicely, and Mpls was starting to feel more and more like home.
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